


cover me in rag and bone

by radialarch



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mild Gore, Period-Typical Racism, Pining, The Pacific Theater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-17 22:04:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3545390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radialarch/pseuds/radialarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They keep surviving, time after time.</p><p>[The Commandos get deployed to the Pacific.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue: the atlantic

**Author's Note:**

> This is my spring break project. I'm aiming for 1k/day on this fic, which means daily updates, albeit unedited ones. Thanks to Jenny & Sara for the encouragement.

The Valkyrie’s course is locked, headed down. Steve pushes himself back and pushes his hair out of his eyes. He doesn’t look back. “I’m sorry,” he says.

Bucky grabs his hand. “Shut up, Rogers,” he says, very clear. “Save your apologies for later.”

“Bucky--”

Bucky smiles at him. “Yeah, Steve,” he says. “I know.”

\------

Bucky’s lips are blue. His eyes are closed. He doesn’t respond when Steve shouts his name in his ear.

But he’s breathing.

Steve raises Bucky’s hands out of the way so he can wrap an arm around his torso. He’s treading water and already the cold’s starting to seep through his uniform. He has to strip Bucky’s coat off because it keeps getting in the way.

“Sorry, Buck,” he mutters. The coat tangles around his foot before he gives a kick and it’s gone, sinking into the Atlantic.

Bucky makes a noise. Steve brings a hand up to touch his face. Bucky’s hair is flattened on his head, falling in spikes across his forehead. He pushes it out of Bucky’s eyes.

“Bucky?” he says. “C’mon, Buck.”

But Bucky doesn’t make a sound again. His head lolls back in Steve’s arms. Steve has to shift him against his shoulder so water doesn’t splash into Bucky’s mouth.

“You’re not dying here,” Steve says. It’s true. He’s going to make it true. Bucky doesn’t deserve to die like this, not after all they’ve been through.

He’s been turned around so many times he doesn’t know which way is east. He looks around for the wreck of the Valkyrie but it’s already gone, sunk through the ice. It’s better that way. That’s where it should rest.

He picks a direction at random, and starts kicking.

\------

Steve swims for a long time. The salt stings his eyes and the cold makes his hands and feet numb, but he keeps going. Every time he pauses to take a breath he makes sure Bucky’s head is above water, that he’s still breathing.

The sky is covered in clouds turning red. He thinks there’s a spot that’s brighter than the rest and puts it behind him.

Bucky wakes up, once.

“Steve?” he says. Steve stops swimming at once, pressing Bucky higher up in the water.

“Shh,” he says, tipping Bucky’s head up with a numb hand. “We’re gonna be alright, Buck.”

“Sure we are,” Bucky slurs, grinning lopsidedly at him. “Saved me on that train, didn’t you? Could save me from anything. Always could.”

“Yeah, Buck,” Steve says. He wants to wipe his eyes but he’s still holding Bucky up and it’s not like it matters anyway, with all the water on his face. “We’re gonna be fine.“

Bucky’s eyes slide closed again. He’s still smiling, like he has faith in Steve, like he really believes it.

Sometimes he thinks Bucky believes in him more than he ever believed in himself. Sometimes it scares him, how much Bucky believes.

But Bucky thinks they’re gonna come out of this alive, and it’s true, it has to be true. Steve won’t have it any other way.

When it turns dark, Steve realizes just how much the sun had been keeping him warm, even indistinct and covered with clouds. He’s shivering, despite his steady kicking, and his breaths come out as white fog in front of his nose. He has to pause more often to catch his breath and he can barely see Bucky in the moonlight. He presses a frozen thumb to the curve of Bucky’s neck. Bucky doesn’t react. He can’t feel a thing with his numb fingers.

He clicks his teeth together and keeps swimming. His arm is still around Bucky and that’s the only thing that matters.

\------

He finds the ship in the morning. It’s flying a British flag. “Hey,” he says. His voice comes out in a tiny gasp, after a night of swallowing salt. He clears his throat and tries again. “Hey!”

They must have seen him first. He notes a boat being lowered. He’s so tired he doesn’t even have the energy to be relieved.

They manage to drag him onboard.  

“Sir,” they say. “You’re gonna have to let the gentleman go --”

“Take care of him first,” Steve rasps. “Bucky. Take care of him first.”

\------

When Steve wakes up, he’s dressed in dry clothes and lying in a bed that’s too small for him. He struggles up on his elbows and bangs his head against the bunk above.

“Bucky?” he says, blinking tears out of his eyes. “Buck?”

“Yeah, Steve, I’m here.” Someone’s holding his hand. It’s warm. Bucky’s holding his hand. Bucky’s climbing into the too-narrow bunk, lying on top of his body. “You’re alive.” Bucky touches Steve’s face. “You wouldn’t wake up.” His mouth is nearly pressing into Steve’s mouth. “You wouldn’t wake for such a long time.”

“Sorry,” Steve says. His mouth pulls into a grin despite himself. “Didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“You idiot,” Bucky says, and then he’s moving, he’s turning his head, and now their mouths are aligned. There’s a hitch in Bucky’s voice. “Make me worry all you want. Just.” He brings a hand up to stroke at Steve’s jaw. “Stay alive, alright, kid?”

“Don’t call me kid,” Steve says, but he’s laughing. He can’t stop laughing, his voice wet. They’re alive. They’re both alive.

Bucky moves against him, patting at Steve’s shoulders and chest. “Steve --” he says. “Let me -- I need to --”

He knows what Bucky means. “Yes,” he breathes. “C’mon, Buck. Please.”

Bucky’s mouth is pressed into his collarbone, leaving the skin there wet and sensitive. Bucky slips his hands under Steve’s waistband, wraps his hand around his cock. He’s so _warm_.

Steve lets his head back down onto his pillow. “I thought --” His throat seizes. He can’t say it. “You were so cold.”

“You should have let me go,” Bucky says, matter of fact. “I was dragging you down.”

“No,” Steve breathes into Bucky’s mouth. “I couldn’t let you go.”

“What if --” Bucky’s pulling at him now, his thumb stroking against the head of his cock. “What if I’d been dead, Steve?”

Steve lets out a sob and presses his forehead against Bucky’s. “I still wouldn’t,” he says. “I would’ve brought you back.”

“You could’ve drowned.”

“Then let me drown.” Steve closes his eyes when Bucky strokes him roughly, nearly too hard. “Let us both.”

“You’re an idiot, Rogers,” Bucky says, but his voice is warm and his hand is warm, and Steve smiles because it’s alright -- everything’s turned out alright, after all.

\------

They’re headed back to London. Steve goes topside and looks out at the horizon. He should be celebrating but Bucky’s not looking at him anymore.

He thinks he’s made a mistake.

\------

It’s two days later, when the cold’s nearly faded out of Steve’s limbs, that he gets called to headquarters.

“Congratulations on coming back from the dead,” Colonel Phillips says. He presses a hand to his forehead. He looks genuinely apologetic. It’s a look that’s rather alarming on him. “Unfortunately, you’ve been given new orders. From the very top.”

“What is it?” Steve asks.

“You and your Commandos are being deployed to the Philippines.”


	2. deployment: london

“You can’t do that,” Steve says. “These men -- they’ve been all over Europe. Hydra’s gone. They’ve earned a rest.”

“And they can have one,” Colonel Phillips says. “Your deployment’s not for a month. I managed to wrangle that out of the brass, at least.” His expression is wry. “I’m sorry.”

“But --”

“I’m not arguing with you about this, Rogers. It’s out of my hands. Now go and bother someone else.”

Steve lets out a breath. He smooths his hands out on his thighs. “Yes, sir,” he says. And then, grudgingly: “Thank you.”

\------

Peggy drops by his quarters soon after.

“I know it came as a surprise,” she says, leaning on the doorframe. “The orders came before we even found you. They must have been planning it for some time.”

“Before --” Steve looks at her. “Where did the orders come from?”

“It’s above the SSR,” she tells him. “High up in the American military. Dernier and Falsworth are of course out of their jurisdiction --”

“Bet that’s not gonna stop them trying.” Steve gives her a tight little grin.

“Steve.” Peggy’s straightened up, is looking straight at him. “Exactly what are you planning?”

“Nothing.” He gives her his best smile. “I’m going to write a letter.”

\------

> _Dear Sir,_
> 
> _The army has informed me that my men are to be deployed to the Pacific theater of war in February 1945. I command a strike team of six men, two of whom are international, and I do not believe that their presence can affect the war greatly in any way._
> 
> _Furthermore, my team has been battling one of the more formidable enemies on the European front for six months. You may have heard the name Hydra, the Nazi science division which went rogue in July. They were planning a missile strike on three major US cities when my team was able to finally take down their leader. New York still stands because of these men. Chicago. Los Angeles._
> 
> _These men have earned their right to rest, go home, be with their families. I, of course, will continue to serve at the pleasure of the United States army._
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _Steve Rogers_  
>  _Captain America_

\------

The men look like they’ve just rolled out of bed as they shuffle into the briefing room. They’ve been out drinking the night before -- Steve catches Morita hiding a yawn behind one hand and smiles.

“Listen up,” he says, and hears the room go silent. “I have good news.”

“Better explosives?” Dernier says. He’s been requisitioning more supplies for the past two weeks. God knows what he’s planning to do with them.

“Shut it, Frenchie.” Bucky throws a pencil at Dernier’s head. “Let the man talk.”

Dernier bursts into a stream of French that Steve has no problem translating. Steve raises his hand, and with one last “ _putain_ ”, Dernier subsides and kicks back his chair.

“Unfortunately nothing that exciting,” Steve says. “Guys, you’re going home.”

There’s a stunned silence for a moment, and then Dugan starts laughing. “Real food,” he says. “Coffee that’s not just dirt.”

“Fuck you, my coffee’s gourmet,” Jones says. “But imagine: _beds_. With pillows.”

“A proper cup of tea,” Falsworth says. “One almost imagines this is a dream.”

Morita’s silent. Steve winces -- he should have thought about that. But it’s Bucky who speaks up, above the babble.

“And you? Where’re you goin’, Rogers?”

Steve bites his lip. “Bucky --”

“No, tell us.” That’s Morita. “We got a right to know.”

They do. That’s the problem. “The army’s officially deployed the Commandos to the Philippines,” he sighs. “I imagine I’ll be working with them, once all of you are gone.”

“Are you an actual idiot?” Bucky demands.

“Captain --”

“Now, that’s just out of the question --”

“Look,” Steve says. He presses a forefinger and thumb to the bridge of his nose. “It’s been a good fight, a long fight, and you guys were the best men I could ever ask for. But your fight’s done and over with, now. Hydra’s gone. So I’m not gonna begrudge any of you the right to go home. You’ve earned it.”

“Like hell,” Dernier spits out. “Where you go, I go.”

“You’re not Marines,” Steve says, wretched. “You’re not trained for this. I’m not taking you to your deaths, please don’t make me do that.”

There’s a hand on his shoulder. It’s Falsworth. “If you think you’re risking your skin all on your own, Captain, then, well.” He smiles. “You must have hit your head quite hard.”

“Hear, hear,” Dugan says. They start clapping, a slow sound that rises up. Steve feels warm all over.

“Well, if all the stupidity’s been taken care of,” Morita declares, “there’s a bunk with my name on it.”

The men clasp Steve’s shoulders as they file out. Steve can’t speak -- his throat’s all tight.

And then it’s just Bucky. He’s got his arms crossed and a hot expression on his face. It’s the first time they’ve been alone since -- since.

Steve opens his mouth.

“Don’t say it,” Bucky says. “Don’t say it, Steve, ‘cause I’m gonna have to slug you for it.”

“Bucky,” Steve says, feeling helpless. “Go home. You should be with your family.”

“I am,” Bucky says. “I _am_ , Steve. And you were gonna -- you were gonna leave me behind.”

“Buck --” Steve opens his mouth, and then closes it again.

In the end, it’s Bucky who draws him into a hug. His arms are tight across Steve’s back and Bucky’s nose is pressing into the side of his neck. “Don’t, alright?” Bucky’s saying, low and muffled. “We’re seein’ this through together, you an’ me.”

Steve blinks. One more minute and he’s going to burst into tears. “‘m sorry,” he presses to the top of Bucky’s head. His hair is soft under his lips. “I guess I’m a little stupid without you.”

Bucky laughs wetly and draws back. “Only a little,” he says.

The moment passes. Bucky clears his throat and looks to the ground. Steve looks away too.

“Hey.” Bucky’s punching him on the arm. And that’s good, that means they’re on familiar ground. “So, the Pacific, huh.”

“Well, I’ve never seen it,” Steve says. “They say it’s bluer.”


	3. the battle of manila (i)

In January the army lands at Luzon. By the time the Commandos join the XIV Corps, they’re ready to take Manila.

Steve’s supposed to report to a Colonel Johnson. “Sir,” he says, “where should my men and I report?”

The colonel looks him over disinterestedly. “Remind me who you are,” he says.

“Captain Steve Rogers, sir.”

“Captain … Rogers,” he says slowly. “Right.”

Steve has the feeling he’s getting measured and found wanting. He forces his fists open and presses them against his thigh. “If you could just tell me where we’re needed,” he says.

“Listen,” Colonel Johnson says, leaning in very close. “Your Captain America bit may have worked fine in Europe, but this is a different war. No one’s interested in your comic book shenanigans. Report to 5th Cavalry and try not to get yourself killed.”

Steve bites his tongue so he won’t say anything stupid. He doesn’t know why the man wants to bait him but this isn’t the time. “Yes, sir,” he says stiffly. He feels the colonel’s eyes on him all the way out the door.

\------

Major Thomas greets him without outward hostility. “Welcome to the Pacific,” he says, and holds out a hand to shake. Steve takes it; the major’s grip is firm but not overly so. Steve appreciates that.

“We’re marching onto Manila?” he asks, pointing at the maps.

“That’s certainly what MacArthur wants.” Thomas raises an eyebrow. “Japs are doing their damned best to stop us. We’re occupying the northernmost bits of Manila, see.” He draws on the map as he talks, gesturing enthusiastically. Steve thinks he rather likes him. “Problem’s this river here. The Japs have blown up most of the bridges -- except this one, the Quezon.” He slaps the map. “So we’ll try for that tomorrow. You’re welcome to come along.”

“Of course,” Steve says cautiously. He wonders what the man thinks of him. If he thinks the Commandos are as useless as Johnson evidently does. He shakes it off. It’s no use wondering about that. He’s just gotta prove himself, that’s all.

\------

“Alright,” Steve says when he comes back to the campsite. “We’re moving out tomorrow. Got a bridge to capture.” With a few strokes, he draws from memory the skeleton of a map. “Jones and Falsworth, I want you here and here. Bucky, it’s mostly a straight road, no obstructions, so things ought to be easy for you. Dernier --”

Steve stops. The men are standing around listlessly. Morita and Dugan aren’t even looking at him.

“Alright, what’s going on,” he says.

Bucky shrugs. “Bit nervous,” he offers. “You know how it gets.”

“Bullshit,” Steve says. He’s seen these men through battles, seen them through worse than this. “Dugan. Tell me.”

“No, I’ll do it,” Morita says. He shuffles around, his hand in his pockets. “Some of the men aren’t happy with a Jap in their midst, ‘s all.” His tone is bland and his eyes slide away from Steve’s face, but Steve knows better.

“Who said that?” he demands. “Let me go talk to them.”

“No need for that,” Dugan says. “We already told ‘em off. Can’t change their minds, maybe, but we can definitely shut ‘em up.” He puts an arm around Morita, pulls him close for a moment.

Morita laughs, suddenly. “You just wanted an excuse to take his cigs,” he accuses. He pulls away from Dugan’s grasp but he’s still grinning.

“Jim, I want you to know --” Steve tries to gather his words. “You belong here just as much as anyone else. Don’t let them take that from you.”

“I know that, Cap,” he says, but the crease between his eyes softens. “So tell us about this bridge, then.”

\------

The ground is rumbling with the movement of tanks. Steve had declined a ride, but Dugan and Jones are in a tank somewhere and Falsworth’s in another. Bucky’s walking at Steve’s elbow.

The bridge comes into view. It’s a wide and sturdy thing. “Get into the trees, Buck,” Steve says, and goes forward without looking back.

The Japanese have blocked off the middle of the bridge with wood and debris. From behind comes the rapid rat-a-tat of machine gun fire.

“Advance!” comes the order, and the tanks start moving forward. The bridge can only take one tank at a time, though -- the rest of them are gonna have to take it on foot.

Steve sees Falsworth leaping out of a tank, Dugan’s hat somewhere in the crowd. There’s no cover for them to hide behind to take out the machine guns. All they can do is shoot from the riverbank.

After three advances, there are dead American soldiers littering the southern bank of the Pasig. Steve can’t tell if his men are all safe -- he hopes, fiercely, that they are.

The Japanese position is heavily fortified. They haven’t gotten anywhere near defeating them.

“We’re not going to take this bridge today,” Major Thomas says, wiping sweat off his face with a forearm. “We might have to withdraw until nightfall.”

“You can’t,” Steve says. “We withdraw now, they’re gonna have plenty of time to rig that bridge and blow it up.”

“I know.” Thomas looks reluctant. “But we don’t have any other options. Pressing forward is just going to be a massacre.”

“Let me go,” Steve says impulsively. “Give me Dernier and a motorcycle.”

“A motorcycle?” Thomas blinks. “What’s your plan, Rogers?”

Steve tells him.

\------

“You’ll have two minutes,” Dernier tells him, handing him the package. “Make ‘em count.”

Steve grins at him from behind his helmet, and then guns the engine.

The Japanese seem too stunned by his approach to shoot at him first, but they recover fast. Steve swerves around patches of machine gun fire. He nearly drops the package once, but rights himself with his heart pounding in his chest.

He’s halfway to the roadblock when they take out his front tire. The motorcycle lurches -- Steve flips over the handles and twists to land on his feet.

He’s still holding the package. “How many minutes now?” he mutters, and starts running.

He takes three bullets to his shoulder. But he’s nearly there. He grits his teeth and keeps running. He can hear the Japanese shouting at each other now, the flurry of their movements as they hesitantly retreat. 

He throws the package into the air, over the roadblock, and starts running back to shore.

He’s still on the bridge when the package explodes.

\------

Steve coughs. The explosion threw him into the bank pretty hard -- the air had been knocked out of him. He wipes the dirt from his mouth and struggles up.

“Well,” Major Thomas says. “That was possibly the bravest thing I’ve seen someone do today. Not to mention the stupidest.”

“I know,” Steve grins through the pain. “Did it work?”

“Look for yourself.”

The explosion must have happened in the air, over the roadblock. There’s still debris on the bridge but it’s scattered enough for a tank to power through, now. The Japanese have gone very silent on the northern bank.

“Advance!” Major Thomas roars, and the first of the tanks starts moving.

\------

After Morita stitches him up, Steve goes out to look at the river. He finds Bucky pacing up and down the bank.

“Bucky,” Steve says.

Bucky stops moving. He looks at Steve for a long time.

“You --” He starts, and then moves closer. “You can’t do this,” he says. He’s very pale underneath all the grime. “Steve, you can’t -- do this to me, alright? You keep doing stupid things when I can’t save you from them.” He’s very close now. He presses his hands to the side of Steve’s face and touches their foreheads together. “Please stop.”

“I had to, Buck,” Steve says, but there’s a lump in his throat.

“I know, I know,” Bucky’s whispering. “But see -- you can’t bring us here and then leave. You just can’t. Don’t die on me, Steve. Don’t die on me when I’m here following you.”

Steve doesn’t know what to say. With a final pat on his shoulder, Bucky sighs and leaves him to climb down to the river.

The sun rises. Steve watches Bucky’s face turn towards the sun, watches it turn pink and clear in the morning light.

In the damp of the jungle, Steve’s notebook’s getting wrinkled. He carefully smooths out a page and starts drawing: the exposed curve of Bucky’s wrist, the cigarette dangling at his mouth. He draws tenderly, like it’s a precious thing. Maybe it is.


	4. the battle of manila (ii)

It takes them days to take Manila. The city’s on fire -- Steve can’t get to sleep the first night for the sharp smell of smoke in his nose.

He gets up and finds Dernier looking out at the flames. “It’s like Paris,” he mutters when Steve draws to his elbow. “What a terrible thing.”

Steve winces, thinking of the city they’d marched into in August. The smell of gunpowder, and rubble still falling from rooftops, long after the bombs had gone.

“I know,” he says, low. “I wish --”

He doesn’t know how to finish the sentence. How can he wish for a world when none of this happens? Without the war, he wouldn’t have the Commandos. Without the war, he’d still be in Brooklyn, small and useless.

Dernier nods. “Yes,” he says. “It’s not that simple, is it?”

\------

The Japanese don’t go easily. There are pockets of them everywhere. A private is killed before Steve’s eyes crossing the street. His blood splatters onto the front of Steve’s shirt.

In retaliation, the army brings in tanks to do a man’s job. Steve gets used to their slow, rumbling approach in the streets. He learns that if he doesn’t want to smell charred flesh, he should stand upwind.

The Filipinos have a far sunnier view of the situation. “It is our city,” Manuel tells Steve one day when they’ve rendezvoused with the USAFFE guerilla forces. “We are doing everything to rid it of the Japs, yes?”

Steve smiles, and puts his sandwich down. Manuel cheerfully steals it from him.

\------

A week after they take the Quezon, Steve’s on a routine street patrol when a young girl peels away from a group of children and skips up to him to tug at his pants leg.

“Hello,” he says, squatting down so they’re eye-to-eye. “What can I do for you?”

“Are you Captain America?”

Bucky laughs behind him. “He sure is,” he says before Steve can say anything. “Good to know they’ve got those comics all the way over here.”

Her eyes go wide like plates. “I told you, I told you!” she squeals, pointing at her friends. “He is, he is!”

“And this is Bucky,” Steve says, because he never really got used to being Captain America, all the audience’s expectations he could never deliver. “He’s --”

“That’s not Bucky,” a boy says scornfully. “Bucky’s like us. He’s not _old_.”

“Just what do these comics say about me,” Bucky’s saying in mock-outrage, when Steve spots movement out of the corner of his eye.

“Get down!” he shouts, cradling the girl to his chest and flattening himself to the ground the best he can. “Buck?”

“Still here,” Bucky says, winded. He’s got a hand on Steve’s ankle. “Building to the right, top left window.”

“Right,” Steve says. He rises up on his knees, careful to keep his body between the window and the girl. “Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head very slowly.

“Right, good,” Steve says. “I’m just gonna carry you over to your friends.” He’s moving on the balls of his feet as he talks. “Now, _stay_ here. Can you do that for me?” 

The kids are all looking at him, open-mouthed. He repeats the order. “Stay. Please.”

When he turns around, Bucky’s crouched in the shadow of a building with his rifle on his knee. As Steve watches, he squeezes the trigger. There’s a clatter and a high, pained shout.

“Got ‘im,” Bucky says.

“There might be more than one,” Steve says. “We should get someone up there.”

Bucky nods. But before Steve can do anything, the door to the building opens. A person staggers out, hand clutched to his side.

“Oh, good,” Bucky says humorlessly. “Now we can ask him.”

Bucky strides towards the man. “Who else?” he shouts at him. “Are you alone? Is someone else up there?”

Steve watches with narrow eyes. Blood’s pouring out between the man’s fingers. There’s too much blood -- and he’s got his hand covering his side, he’s got his hand _inside the wound_ \--

“Grenade!” Steve shouts, and watches, dream-like, as Bucky dives. The man takes his hand away -- and that’s a pin, yeah, it is -- and then time snaps back and there’s blood on the streets and Bucky’s lying on the ground and he is very still.

“Bucky,” Steve says hoarsely as he kneels by Bucky’s side. Blood’s soaking into the knees of his pants, wet and sticky, but he doesn’t care. “Buck, god, tell me you’re alive.”

Bucky’s shoulders go slack and then he lets out a tight, short groan. “That’s for all the times I thought you died on me,” he says, breathless, as he pushes himself up. “Jesus Christ.”

Bucky is very white. There are streaks of blood running down his face. “That’s enough close calls for one day,” Steve decides abruptly. “We’re going back to base and taking a long shower.”

“Yeah, you wish, Rogers.” Bucky’s voice is still shaky but there’s a bit of humor in it, now. “You wanted long showers, you shouldn't've joined the army.”

“We’ll find it,” Steve promises. He’d promise Bucky anything; he’s alive, he’s alive.

\------

It’s Morita who finds out about the massacres first. He comes in from patrol one day out of breath and his voice is pained when he says, “St. Paul’s Convent.”

There are dead bodies everywhere. Flies buzz around pools of blood. Some corpses have been beheaded; others are missing arms, legs, hands, feet. There’s one nailed up to the wall with Japanese carved into his chest.

“They were civilians,” Steve says. “They -- they were civilians.”

“Those fucking --” Dugan starts, then checks himself. “God.”

“No, you’re right,” Morita says in a dull voice. “Those fucking Japs.” He stares at the bloodstained body of a woman and then walks away.

“Don’t,” Steve says when Jones makes a move. “Give him a minute.”

Jones stares at him. “Alright,” he says grudgingly. “But he doesn’t come back in five, I’m going after him.”

Morita’s back in three. He has a shovel with him.

“What -- what are you doing?” Falsworth asks, bemused.

“They’re dead,” Morita says, like it’s obvious. He starts digging, right in the courtyard of the convent. “Gotta bury ‘em.”

“Jim,” Steve says. “It’s not your fault.”

“Did I say it was?” he snaps. Then he sighs. “That was out of line,” he says. “Sorry, Cap.”

Steve stares as Jim digs a hole, deeper and deeper. “I think that’s enough,” he says. “C’mon. We’ll help.”

Morita stares up. Dirt’s smudged on his face. “Thanks,” he mutters eventually. “You’re a good one.”

\------

It’s hot and sticky at night. Steve turns in his bedroll; he can’t sleep.

“Hey.” Bucky’s tugging at Steve’s shoulder. “Budge up, Rogers.”

They’d done this in Europe, when the cold had gotten too much to bear. Steve blinks tiredly and looks at Bucky.

Bucky looks exhausted. Fatigue lines his face. His hair is flattened down with damp. His shoulders are slumped.

“C’mon, then,” Steve mumbles, and makes room in his bedroll. It’s a tight squeeze, but they manage. Their bodies fit together like they’ve never forgotten how to.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Bucky says, raspy. “Just needed --” He stops. He tugs at Steve’s arm, until Steve gets the idea and tosses it over Bucky’s shoulder.

“It’s different here,” Steve says softly. “It’s a strange war, Buck.”

“Yeah.” Bucky’s turned away from him; he can barely hear the words. “‘m glad you’re here with me.”

Steve doesn’t say anything for a long while. He’s afraid of what he might say if he opens his mouth.

“Yeah, Buck,” he says in the end. “Me too.”

But Bucky’s already asleep.


	5. iwo jima

Steve wants to get out of the Philippines. His men are tired -- tired of seeing civilians burn, tired of the never-ending heat.

Colonel Johnson sneers at him. “Can’t stick it out, is that it?” he says. “This is war, Captain. It’s exhausting and it’s awful. If we all left, the Japs would overrun the islands again by midnight.”

“I think the Commandos might be able to do more good elsewhere,” Steve repeats, biting the inside of his cheek. “We’re a strike force, not --”

“Yeah, yeah.” The colonel holds his hand up. “Make your excuses.” He looks down at his maps, at tiny specks of islands circled in red. “The Marines are interested in you,” he says in a tone that makes it clear that he’s baffled at why. “Why don’t we let them give you a try.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve says, as politely as he can manage.

“Now get out of here,” Colonel Johnson says. “I’ve got work to do. Real work.”

Steve just manages to refrain from rolling his eyes, and goes.

\------

It turns out that Jones gets seasick. “This is why I joined the damn Army,” he says, and promptly throws up over the side of the ship.

Lieutenant Marshall is fascinated. “You fought the Red Skull,” he says in awed tones. “How can you get like this over some water?”

“You ever seen a tsunami? Water’s powerful, man,” Jones says. He wipes his face with his sleeve and shakes his head. “Can’t get off this boat too soon.”

Except for Jones, the other men are having a good time. Steve spots Dernier talking in French to a couple of men from New Orleans, and Dugan with his sleeves rolled up past his elbows, enjoying the sea breeze.

“So tell me about the situation in Iwo Jima,” Steve asks, and hides a wince at the way Marshall snaps to attention.

“We’ve been shelling them to hell since last June, sir,” he says. “Past three days, warships have been firing on practically all of the island. Word is, all we have to do is land and the island’s ours.”

“Well, that’s optimistic,” Bucky says in low tones. “Look at the number of men we’re sending for a sure victory.”

“Better too many than too little,” Steve says, but privately he’s thinking the same thing.

\------

The Commandos land with the first wave. The beach is littered with artillery shells and ash. It’s very silent -- all Steve can hear is the sound of his own footsteps.

“Where’re the Japs?” someone asks.

“All dead,” someone else yells back. “Gotta thank the air force.”

There’s an uneasy feeling going down Steve’s spine. “We should see _something_ ,” he mutters. “Dead bodies, fortifications -- anything.”

“Yeah,” Bucky rasps. “Keep your eyes peeled, Rogers.”

The silence is getting to the Marines, too. Steve can hear them starting up conversations amongst themselves, almost forcedly loud. They step forward with their heads ducked, heads swiveling constantly.

“Where did they go?” is Falsworth’s question. “The Japanese have been defending this island for nearly a year. Surely they must have prepared.”

“I don’t like this,” Steve concludes. “We’re wide open.”

That’s when the first of the Marines reach the treeline. The gunfire comes out of nowhere. Suddenly the air is full of screams. Hundreds of Marines drop to the ground.

“Where are they shooting from?” Dugan shouts, crawling over bodies. “Where the fuck are they?”

Steve narrows his eyes and looks. His eyesight is better than any of theirs. He can make out tiny flashes, but they’re not -- surely --

“They’re underground!” Steve roars. “They’ve dug in! Retreat! Fall back!”

“Where the fuck to?”

They have nowhere to go. Marines are still landing on the beach, headed for sure death.

“We gotta clear those bunkers.” he gasps.

“Are you fucking crazy?” Bucky shouts in his ear. “That’s suicide!”

“You got a better plan?” Steve asks. He starts to crawl forward. “Cover me.”

“You goddamn motherfucking sonuvabitch --” Bucky starts, but Steve’s already gone. He’s sinking into himself, getting ready for an assault. He unslings the shield from his back and starts running forward, lightly, on his toes.

Machine gun fire strikes the shield, rattling his arm and coming up all the way to his teeth. He ignores it. He needs to get to those bunkers. He has to.

There are men following his charge. They are going to die.

Steve feels very light and very empty as he approaches the first bunker. Just a tiny window in the soil, the rest of it buried solidly underneath. He pulls out a grenade.

“Get back,” he shouts, waving behind him. He pulls the pin. Rolls it forward.

Very slowly, the grenade tumbles into the bunker.

The flash is nearly invisible. There are no screams. The soil simply explodes in front of him, covering him in blood and dirt. The ceiling’s blown off the bunker. He can see the gunner’s body in front of him, outlined sharply against the ground. His head’s been blown off.

Someone slaps him. His head is ringing. He looks up blearily.

“You --” Bucky says, enraged.

“Sorry, Buck,” he says. And then giggles. His head feels light. He thinks he’s in shock.

“Steve,” Bucky says, all the anger evaporating from him. He pulls Steve into a fierce hug. _Don’t_ , Steve wants to say -- he’s filthy with blood -- but he finds he doesn’t have the energy to say it. He lets himself be supported by Bucky’s arms, breathing in the scent of him.

“They’re connected,” Steve finally manages to say. “Underground tunnels.”

“We’ll get ‘em,” Bucky promises, patting Steve’s back. “We’ll call for flamethrowers. But you stay out, you hear?”

Steve does stay out. He watches men climbing down into the tunnels. They flush the Japanese from underneath. They run out like rabbits from warrens only to run into the beach full of Marines. There’s nowhere for them to go.

He blinks. Sweat’s running into his eyes. He sways, and Bucky grasps his upper arm, sets him upright.

“I don’t deserve you,” Steve finds himself saying.

Bucky wipes a smudge of blood off Steve’s face. “I know,” Bucky says, and he’s not even grinning. “But you’re stuck with me, pal.”

\------

On the southern coast, the Marines had been shelled from beneath the mountain itself. It doesn’t matter: they have the sheer power of numbers on their side.

Four days later, the Commandos watch the flag go up on the mountain. There’s a stiff breeze; it flaps proudly in the air.

“I guess we won,” Steve says very faintly.

Lieutenant Marshall had died in the first charge up the beach. He looks at the flag and wonders if it’d been worth it.


	6. okinawa (prelude)

They get reattached to the Army just in time to land on the Kerama Islands. They’re easy to capture -- some of the islands aren’t even inhabited.

Major Woodruff is a huge man with a formidable mustache. “Enjoy your vacation,” he roars at them. “Your next stop is Okinawa, and we’re not stopping ‘til we’re at Emperor Hirohito’s doorsteps!”

The 77th Infantry roars back. Steve looks at the Commandos, shouting right along with the infantrymen -- Dugan waving his filthy excuse of a hat in the air, Bucky with his arm thrown around Morita.

The end of the war is coming. It will come, as inevitable as the seasons change. The only thing Steve doesn’t know is if he’ll have all his men when it happens.

\------

The ocean is beautiful in Kerama. The men go swimming among coral reefs. The sand is white and clean underneath the blue, blue water.

Falsworth is doing a textbook-worthy demonstration of a backstroke. “Watch this,” Dugan says, and wades carefully into the water. Falsworth’s a body length away from him when Dugan splashes water all over his face.

Falsworth splutters, flipping over. “A cowardly attack!”

“Cowardly? I’ll show you cowardly!” And then they’re splashing each other. Dernier dives in to join Dugan, shouting in French. Jones takes Falsworth’s side, shouting back just as loudly.

Steve’s lying on the beach, his feet bare. He buries his toes in sand and watches them fight. He’s grinning, and can’t bring himself to stop. Bucky’s lying beside him, his shirt off and his back to the sun. He’s got his eyes closed -- Steve thinks he’s asleep.

He takes out his notebook, flips to the page he’d started in the Philippines. Bucky stares far off into the distance on the page.

Steve’s pencil’s nearly worn down to a stump. He unwraps it carefully and starts to shade in the curve of Bucky’s neck.

“Hey, Steve?” Bucky says drowsily.

Steve’s pencil nearly slips, but he makes himself keep going. “Yeah?” he says.

“What do you want to do?” Bucky flips himself upright, watching Dugan trying to drown Jones with a half-smile on his lips. “When the war’s over, I mean.”

“Go back home, I guess.” He hasn’t thought much about it. “I dunno.”

“Home sounds nice,” Bucky says. “Bet the dames’ll be all over you now.”

“There’ll be plenty for you too,” Steve grins. “I hear the girls love a soldier.”

“Do they.” Bucky sounds a little far-off. He hums, something tuneless.

Steve puts the notebook away. It’s getting harder to draw Bucky without wanting to touch him. Sometimes, Steve thinks Bucky’s the last thing he has. That Bucky’s the one anchoring him to reality -- without him, he’d vanish.

\------

At night comes the shelling: immense battleships, fighting each other for control of the water. The air is filled with smoke and fire. They light up the sky. The men find it hard to sleep with the noise of explosions in their ears. Instead they huddle up by the rocks, watching.

“It’s like the damn Fourth of July,” someone mutters. “‘cept bigger.”

Steve remembers going out on the fire escape to watch the fireworks, every year. Bucky would come up with a bottle of whiskey and they’d take sips out of the bottle, getting drunker as the night went on and the fireworks got bigger.

“Happy birthday,” Bucky would say, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and grinning at Steve, very wide. “Make a wish.”

The whole country was celebrating. Steve looked up at the sparks in the air and never wished for what he really wanted, because he knew he couldn’t have it.

Bucky’s sitting behind him, his feet kicking Steve in the back every so often. Steve resists the urge to lean back against Bucky’s shins and press his head against Bucky’s knee.

\------

In the morning the sun rises, hazy and pink. The water’s dyed a deep, rich color and it nearly breaks Steve’s heart, looking at how beautiful it is.

Bucky’s down the shore, sitting on a rock with a cigarette in his mouth. Steve draws him, even though he shouldn’t -- he puts in the way Bucky’s bare feet dangle in the water and the way he’s got his weight resting on one hand, leaning back.

He draws Bucky’s face last. He sketches in Bucky’s deep dark eyes and the curve of his mouth, the shell of an ear beneath hair that’s getting too long. He draws like it’s a confession, drawing all the want out of him.

“Still not tired of my face yet, Rogers?”

Steve startles. Bucky’s come up the beach. He sits down next to Steve, bare forearm pressed against Steve’s own, and looks it over critically.

Steve’s heart is pounding. He wipes his hand against his thigh. Maybe the sleeplessness is getting to him, but it makes him frank. “If I was gonna get tired of it,” he says, “I would have by the time we were fourteen.”

Bucky looks at him. He looks at him like Steve’s said something surprising.

But how could Bucky not know? How could he not, after all this time?

Bucky reaches out for Steve’s face. His thumb brushes against the curve of Steve’s cheekbone. “Guy could get the wrong idea if you keep saying stuff like that.” His voice is low. Rough.

Steve thinks about turning his head and pressing his mouth to the pad of Bucky’s thumb. He doesn’t, though. He stays very still and lets Bucky touch him, until Bucky finally sighs and pulls his hand away.

“I don’t know what you want with a picture of me, anyway,” Bucky says, elbowing Steve in the side. “Give that one to my ma, maybe, if I don’t make it back.”

Steve clears his throat. He tears the picture out of the notebook and brushes it flat on his thigh. He looks at it. It’s a good likeness.

“Maybe I’ll keep it,” he says instead. He folds it into quarters and slips it into his breast pocket.

Bucky clears his throat and looks out over the water. “If you want,” he says, and Steve doesn’t know what that means, at all.


	7. interlude: v-e day

The news spreads slowly. Steve gets back to base in the evening to men cheering and more animated conversations than he’s heard in weeks.

“What’s going on?” he asks a passing private.

“Didn’t you hear? Hitler’s dead,” he says, then blanches and offers a salute. “I mean. Sir.”

“Hitler,” Steve says slowly. He hasn’t thought about that name in months, deployed as he is halfway around the world. It sounds unreal.

“They say the German army’s surrendered,” the private says. “War’s over in Europe. Lucky bastards,” he adds as an afterthought, then looks stricken again. “Sir.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Steve gives him a faint smile. “Thank you.”

\------

“Coward killed himself,” Dernier is telling Morita and Jones when Steve finds them. “Couldn’t bear to be tried for his crimes, could he?” He spits at the ground.

“So you guys heard,” Steve says.

“You kidding, Cap? Everyone’s talking about it,” Jones says. “Monty’s getting out his good whiskey. Says he saved it for exactly this moment.”

“He has whiskey?” That’s Bucky, coming up behind Steve. “Fuck you, Monty, I’ve been drinking beer that tastes like piss.” He puts a warm hand on Steve’s shoulder, body pressed against Steve’s back.

“That’s what you deserve for starting without us.” Morita sounds unrepentant. “Where’d you get the beer? Bully it out of some wet-nosed private?”

“Traded for it,” Bucky says, swaying a little. Steve catches hold of his wrist and makes him stand still. “I’ve still got my morals.”

“Unlike the man himself,” Falsworth says, coming up out of the darkness with Dugan at his heels. “Once a coward, always a coward.” He holds up a small bottle. “Bottoms up, lads.”

“You’re a marvel.” Dugan claps Falsworth on the back. “Let’s taste that thing, shall we?”

“The Captain should do the honors,” Falsworth demurs, handing the bottle to Steve. Steve takes it. It’s heavy in his grasp, solid. It seems like the first real thing he’s touched in hours.

“To peace,” he says slowly, fumbling for the right words. It seems important, somehow. “And the men who fight for it.”

The whiskey goes down smoothly. Steve grins in appreciation and hands it back to Falsworth.

“Hear, hear,” the men say. They pass the bottle round. The sun’s gone down. Steve sees more shadows than people: the curve of an open mouth, the glitter of a pair of eyes.

And Bucky, meanwhile, is still clinging to Steve like it’s the end of the world.

\------

The Commandos fall asleep, eventually. Steve can hear Dugan’s loud snoring, Dernier muttering to himself in French.

Bucky’s breathing is steady in Steve’s ear. He’s sitting with his head leaned against Steve’s shoulder.

“What if we were over there?” Bucky mumbles.

“Dugan’s snoring’d be just as loud,” Steve says.

Bucky shoves at Steve with his head. “You know what I mean,” he says. “Remember Paris?”

“Yeah,” Steve says. The Commandos had been there when de Gaulle made his speech. Steve’s French hadn’t been great, but the ecstatic cheering of the crowd had done more than enough to make him shout along with the rest of them. “It was good, wasn’t it?”

“The parades,” Bucky says dreamily. “It was like -- the first time that all our fighting meant something, you know? All those people, cheering.”

Steve straightens up and looks at Bucky. He presses a hand to Bucky’s forehead. Bucky must be very drunk. He’d never be this frank with him otherwise.

“Think it’s time you went to bed,” he says. “C’mon, Buck.” He tries to get Bucky to sit up, but Bucky’s still clinging to him.

“I can hear you thinking,” Bucky says into the curve of Steve’s shoulder. “Stop thinking. Celebrate.”

And then Bucky’s mouth is on Steve’s, hot and wet.

“You’re drunk,” Steve says, pulling away from him very gently. He presses a hand to Bucky’s shoulder and pushes him upright. “You don’t want --”

“Don’t tell me what I want, Rogers,” Bucky says. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

Steve can’t. Steve’s been in love with Bucky for as long as he’s known what love is. He’s kept every touch, every word Bucky’s said to him inside his heart and strung them out in fantasies on lonely nights, burying his face into his pillow and feeling so ashamed afterwards.

“I thought so,” Bucky says, and kisses him again. This time, Steve opens his mouth and lets Bucky in.

It’s very dark now. Steve can barely see Bucky’s face. He closes his eyes and feels the brush of Bucky’s eyelashes against his cheek. Bucky’s got a hand against the back of Steve’s head, palm pressing his hair flat. He leans back into it and pretends that Bucky means this -- all of it.

Bucky licks his way down Steve’s throat and sucks the exposed bit of collarbone. Steve lets him, feeling like he’s not here at all.

He has just enough presence of mind to whisper, “Not here,” when Bucky’s hands slip past his waistband. Bucky looks around, as if he’s forgotten about the Commandos, and laughs -- a small huff of a sound against Steve’s chest. He tugs Steve up, wrestles them behind a rock where they’re half-hidden from anyone that might come by.

Steve’s been hard since Bucky started kissing him, and he makes a strangled noise when Bucky’s hand finally curls around his cock. “Bucky,” he says, “please --”

“I gotcha,” Bucky says. One of his arms is around Steve’s shoulders and the other one is stroking him, hot and firm. Steve bites down on a groan and presses his forehead against Bucky’s shoulder.

He doesn’t last long. He comes and it feels like he’s flying apart. He’s breathing very quick like he hasn’t needed to do since the serum.

He presses his hand inside Bucky’s pants, trying with clumsy fingers to reciprocate. “Here,” Bucky says quietly, and wraps his hand around Steve’s so they’re both touching Bucky. Steve lets Bucky direct his fingers, strokes him the way Bucky wants, and soon Bucky’s trembling against Steve’s chest and coming over Steve’s fingers.

Afterwards Bucky is pliant and loose-limbed in Steve’s arms. “Steve --” he starts to say, and then shakes his head. “Don’t think about it,” he advises eventually. “Go to sleep.”

\------

Steve doesn’t go to sleep. He thinks about the near-silent “oh” Bucky had failed to catch between his teeth as he was coming. He knows he’s going to think about that for a very long time, after this.

He doesn’t know what Bucky wants from him. A warm body, maybe, to celebrate with and forget about in the morning.

The thing is: Steve can’t forget.


	8. okinawa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this chapter contains the death of a baby.

Once the rain starts, it doesn’t stop. The battlefield’s all mud up to their ankles. The medics are having trouble ferrying injured men out, let alone the dead.

They learn to get used to the smell of decaying bodies. It lingers in the back of Steve’s throat. Steve wonders if he’s ever going to forget that smell.

Okinawa’s mountains are full of caves. Some of them hide Okinawan refuges; others, desperate Japanese soldiers.

“We are not the Japs,” Major Woodruff had said early on. “We are here for a purpose. Do not kill civilians! Present the best face of the United States Army!”

But the men are afraid. When there’s a rustle in the mouth of a cave, the men shoot first and ask questions later. The number of dead Okinawans Steve sees steadily rises. He finds himself looking away when he’s passing their bodies, as if that might afford them a modicum of respect they couldn’t have in the moment of their death.

\------

They’re clearing a village that’s been recently vacated. The main body of the Japanese army has retreated but there are stragglers everywhere.

“Keep your eyes open,” Steve says softly as they pass by the ruined remnants of houses. “This is how 2nd squad got hit last week.”

“Yeah, but 2nd squad was dumber than a box of bricks,” Steve hears Dugan say in an undertone. “Who the hell decides to take a piss in an unsecured area?”

Steve resists the urge to close his eyes. Maybe that’s why it takes him a moment to hear the cry.

It’s faint but unmistakable. There’s a baby crying somewhere in the village.

“You hear that?” Steve turns to ask Bucky. There’s a frown on Bucky’s face, but he gives a slight nod. That’s enough for Steve.

Steve follows the sound to a broken-down house at the edge of the village. The door’s been torn off the hinges. Steve ducks down under the low door frame and steps inside.

The baby’s lying in the middle of the room. There’s debris everywhere. Someone had hastily wrapped him -- her? -- in a towel. His fists are waving angrily in the air, and he’s kicking out as he cries.

Steve steps forward.

“Steve,” Bucky says from behind him. “Stop.”

Steve turns around. Licks his lips. “It’s a baby, Buck,” he says.

“A baby that’s suddenly turned up in an abandoned village,” Bucky says implacably. “Why isn’t he dressed, Steve? Where are his parents?”

“He needs _help_ ,” Steve says, and takes another step.

Bucky’s at his back at once, his arms across Steve’s chest. “Stop,” he hisses in Steve’s ear. “Steve, you gotta _think_. You know what Woolsey found last week.”

“I --” Steve can’t speak. There’s horror ballooning in his chest. “Call Dernier. We can still do something. We can help.” His voice breaks.

Bucky wrestles him back to the edge of the room. “They knew what they were doing,” he says, still in a steel-trap of a voice. “That baby’s been dead since the Japs put him down.”

Very slowly, Steve nods. Bucky unwraps his arms from him, bit by bit.

“Get out of here,” he tells Steve, pushing him out the door. “I’ll take care of it.”

The baby’s stopped crying. He looks at the two of them, hands opening and closing slowly.

Steve walks out. His hands are shaking. He wants to cry but he doesn’t have the luxury of letting himself.

There’s a shot -- just one -- and an explosion. Steve’s been waiting for one last wail but it never comes.

\------

The Marines take Shuri Castle at the end of May. The Japanese forces are in full retreat now, amassing at the south of the island.

They’re winning. Taking Okinawa is just a matter of time.

Steve feels nothing. The rain drips steadily into his boots.

\------

The Commandos arrive at Itoman in June. They’re supposed to stop a small force of Japanese from joining the main army. The terrain’s rough, mountainous, and the Japanese have plenty of places to hide.

Steve takes the Commandos into the mountains. They flush out soldiers from the caves, one by one. Some of them lunge out swinging swords, like that’s a more honorable death.

They sleep in turns at night, twitching awake at every sound. It’s more wearying than outright battle. The taste of mud is perpetually in their mouths.

\------

It’s a rare day when the rain’s stopped for a moment. The sky’s still gray but Steve feels like he can finally breathe. He wipes his forehead with his sleeve and looks around. There are still more caves to search. He’s beginning to wonder if the caves will ever run out.

Morita whistles, and they all flatten to the ground. People are coming over the ridge.

The first thing they see is the dress. An Okinawan woman. She comes up the hill haltingly, like something’s holding her back. The hem of her dress is covered in mud.

Then Steve sees the Japanese soldier behind her.

“Shit,” Morita says.

Steve can see the woman’s face clearly. Her throat trembles in terror. She keeps looking back, like she wants to plead with her captor, but he prods her forward with the butt of his rifle.

Steve looks for Bucky. He doesn’t know what the expression is on his face but when Bucky catches sight of him, he nods, once, very slightly.

Bucky brings his rifle up.

The soldier’s coming forward, keeping the woman pressed close to him. He shouts at them in Japanese, something that makes Morita’s expression turn scornful.

Steve sees Bucky tense, and shoot. There’s an explosion of blood. Someone screams.

Bucky had gotten the soldier straight through the head. The woman is standing there, shaking, looking down at her blood-covered arms. Steve lets out a breath. He finds he’s been digging his nails into his palm and makes himself stop.

Bucky’s making his way down. The woman rushes forward into his arms, sobbing.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Bucky says, his arms around her. “We’ve got you.”

Her face is buried in his chest. She’s getting blood all over his shirt. Bucky just sways with her, very gently, and lets her cry.

\------

They get the woman a ride out of the city. She cries as she tells them thank you, bowing over and over again.

In the evening Steve finds Bucky sitting by himself, staring down at his hands. He sits down beside him, so their shoulders are touching. He waits.

“I thought --” Bucky says, voice rough. “I thought I’d killed her too.”

“You didn’t,” Steve says. “Bucky, you didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, slowly. He looks up at Steve. “I don’t even remember the last time I held a girl,” he confesses. “How do you --” He blows out a breath. “I’ve gotten so good at killing. For a moment I didn’t know if I could do anything else.”

Bucky’s hands are shaking. Steve rolls his fingers flat and grabs them with his own hands. “When this war’s over,” he says, “when it’s over, we’ll go dancing. We’ll get drunk and find you a girl who won’t mind your ugly face.”

Bucky smiles, very faint. “Sweet talker,” he mutters.

“Anything you want, Buck,” Steve promises. “We’ll do it.”

“Anything?” Bucky looks at him, his eyes dark. Steve feels exposed all over, but fights the urge to look away.

“Yeah,” he says. “Anything.”


	9. the bomb

In July the rumors start flying -- about a weapon that’s more dangerous than even Hydra had ever dreamed of. Steve keeps his eyes and ears open but most of what he hears seems like nonsense.

“What do you think it is?” Jones asks. He pulls at his cigarette and breathes it out, slow. “Can’t be worse than energy weapons that make people disappear.”

“A weapon that makes two people disappear?” Dernier suggests.

Steve starts laughing, harder than he has in ages. “Thanks, guys,” he says. “Can always depend on you to keep my imagination in check.”

“No problem, Captain.” Falsworth pats at his shoulder. “Chances are it won’t ever materialize, anyway. They’ll send us to mainland to die -- or not die, as the case may be -- and take all the credit for it afterwards. Ah, glorious war.”

\------

When the truth comes, Steve will not remember laughing. He will only know a slow, creeping horror that rises thick in his throat.

\------

The rains have gone. It’s a beautiful day in Okinawa when they’re given orders to ship out.

“We’re not going to Japan?” Steve asks a passing officer, frowning. “I thought --”

“Naw,” he says easily. “They’ve dropped some sort of bomb on the Japs. Vaporized an entire city, I hear.”

“How can a bomb vaporize an entire city?” Steve demands. A horrible feeling is filling him up, making his fingers tremble.

“Dunno. It’s some brainchild of Stark’s.”

“Oh,” Steve says numbly. “Thank you.”

The officer inclines his head and trots away. Steve turns his head east.

Somewhere, far away, Howard Stark has invented something new. Something new and terrible.

\------

By the time Steve gets himself together, it’s nearly noon. He wanders past soldiers digging into their rations, trying to find --

“Cap, Cap.” Jones catches him by a shoulder. “Have you heard?”

“Yeah,” he says faintly. “Where’s Jim?”

Jones points towards the sea. Steve tries for a smile and goes.

Morita’s down on the shore, sitting on a rock with his feet drawn up. He makes space beside him for Steve when he comes up but otherwise doesn’t say a word.

Steve waits.

“Do you think it makes me a -- a bad American,” he asks after a while. “That I feel like this.”

“No,” Steve says. “It’s -- it’s horrible. It’s _obscene_.” His voice slides up on the last word.

“Fifty thousand people dead, just like that,” Morita says. “I didn’t even -- I didn’t even know that was possible.”

Steve doesn’t know what to say. Anything he thinks up seems insignificant in the face of this -- this, whatever it is.

“I’m sorry,” he tries anyway. “I really am.”

“Don’t,” Morita says. “It’s a war, right?” He laughs, bitterly. “People die in war.”

“But not like this. Not -- civilians, and not like this.”

Morita lets his feet down and kicks at the sand. “They probably would’ve done the same to us,” he says eventually. “If they had something like that.” He sighs. “Thanks, Cap.”

Steve hasn’t done anything. He hums.

“We better go get some grub,” Morita says. He clears his throat. “Dum Dum’s gonna eat it all, otherwise.”

Steve smiles. The expression sits stiffly on his face. “You alright?” he asks, looking at Morita carefully.

Morita thinks. “Not yet,” he says. “But eventually.”

\------

Three days later, they drop the second bomb.

\------

Bucky finds him in his tent. “Steve,” he says urgently. “Steve.”

Steve looks up at him. His hands and feet are very cold. “How could they do it, Buck?” he asks. His voice cracks at the end. “How?”

Bucky’s shoulder slump. “I don’t know,” he says.

“They knew,” Steve says. “They knew what it did and they dropped it anyway.”

Bucky reaches out and takes his hands from around his knees. “Steve,” he says, very gently. “Tell me what you want.”

“I don’t want it to be real.” He looks up into Bucky’s face. “Make it not real, Buck.”

“Okay,” Bucky says. “Okay.” He kisses the knuckles of Steve’s hands. When Steve doesn’t resist, he pulls him closer and kisses his mouth.

Steve kisses him back. It’s wet and it’s messy, but Bucky doesn’t protest. He pulls back, once, to looks at Steve’s face. He raises a hand to cup Steve’s cheek, running a thumb under the curve of Steve’s eye. Wiping away tears.

“Tell me how,” Bucky whispers against Steve’s mouth. “Tell me how you need me.”

Steve can’t speak. He just draws Bucky against him, kissing the planes of his face.

Bucky understands. Bucky’s always understood. Bucky lays him down gently and lies on top of him, covering Steve’s body with his. He kisses Steve like it’s the only important thing in the world. Like he could want nothing better than this. His hands slide up Steve’s shirt, rubbing warm circles onto his skin.

“Steve,” Bucky says, pulling away. He crawls down Steve’s body, presses his mouth to the skin of Steve’s belly. “Tell me -- let me --”

“Anything,” Steve says. “Anything, Buck.”

Bucky huffs out a breath, warm against Steve’s skin. He undoes Steve’s pants, slips his cock out of his underwear.

Steve’s not hard. Bucky takes him into his mouth anyway, licking at the underside with his tongue.

Bucky’s grasping at Steve’s thighs. Bucky’s holding him together and Bucky’s sucking at his cock. Steve shivers as he feels his cock start to stiffen.

“Bucky,” he says.

“Shh,” Bucky tells him, pulling off with a little gasp. He strokes at the crease of his thigh with a thumb. “It’s just you and me, Steve.”

He takes the head of Steve’s cock back into his mouth, licking at the head of it. Steve whines high in his throat, jerks his hips up. Bucky laughs a little against his skin, stroking him with his hands. He takes him deeper, one hand dropping down to cup Steve’s balls, and Steve feels them drawing up, up -- coming in Bucky’s mouth.

Steve closes his eyes. For a moment, nothing matters but this: Bucky with his mouth on Steve, Steve held together in his hands.

\------

Six days later, the empire of Japan surrenders.


	10. home

Falsworth leaves first. “Good-bye, chaps,” he says, shouldering his bag. “It’s been a pleasure serving with you.” He tips his ragged remnant of a hat up with a thumb. “If we ever meet again, may it be under better circumstances.”

Dernier is far more maudlin. “You were the best men I’ve ever had the honor of serving with,” he declares in English, jabbing at all of them with a fierce finger. “Thank you.” He actually grabs Jones into a hug -- Jones pats him on the back until Dernier finally staggers back.

Jones, Morita, Dugan -- they all leave, eventually. And then Steve and Bucky have nothing to do except go back home.

Coming back to Brooklyn is a shock. The streets are busy with people shouting, laughing -- full of life. It nearly dazzles Steve, the first time he sees it.

“Bucky,” he says. “We don’t belong here.”

“We will,” Bucky says, pulling him close. “We will, I promise.”

\------

Peggy comes up from DC a week after he comes back. “Come work for the SSR,” she suggests. “If you’ve got nothing better to do.”

“I can’t,” he tells her honestly. “Put on a mask and be Captain America again? Captain America’s finished.” He looks down at his hands. It’s been weeks since he’s held the shield. “The war’s over,” he tells her. “Maybe I need a rest.”

He can tell she doesn’t understand. She’s been fighting all her life. She’s still fighting.

“Alright,” she says anyway, and kisses him on the cheek. “Good-bye, Steve.”

She leaves without looking back. For a moment he can smell the scent of her perfume, and then it’s gone. The life he could have had.

“She would have married you,” Bucky tells him.

“I know,” he says. “I don’t deserve her.”

\------

They’re still in the same apartment they shared before the war. They could afford better. Neither of them mention it.

Steve still wakes up at nights reaching for a weapon he no longer has. He grows familiar with how the shadows creep across the wall as the sun comes up. He knows Bucky’s doing the same. Sometimes he hears them -- the shouts Bucky tries to bite down but can’t quite manage.

One of those nights when both of them are awake Bucky gets up and makes his way to Steve’s bed. “Steve,” he says. “Please.”

“We can’t,” Steve tells him, aching with every word. “War’s over, Buck. Things are -- different.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “Yeah, you’re right.” He looks away for a moment. “Sorry.”

“Don’t,” Steve says. “Just -- go back to bed.”

Bucky goes. Steve doesn’t go to sleep for the rest of the night.

\------

They go to dancehalls, Bucky and Steve. Steve orders a drink and sits at the bar. Girls come up to him, often. “Sorry,” he tells them with a smile. “Never learned how to dance.”

Steve watches Bucky dance. Bucky’s beautiful on the floor: there’s a flush on his cheeks and a light in his eyes.

But he never dances with the same girl twice.

“You can bring girls home,” he tells Bucky once. “I’ll duck out. You should do it, if you --”

“Naw,” Bucky says, and looks away. He tucks his hands into his pockets. “Don’t want to, really.”

\------

Some nights Steve wakes up screaming and doesn’t remember what he fought for.

Some nights Steve wakes up screaming and doesn’t know if anything’s changed.

\------

It’s the first time since Steve’s got back that he’s felt like drawing. He opens up his sketchbook -- the one he’s carried halfway round the world and back -- and a folded piece of paper falls out. He flattens it out and looks at it.

It’s the picture he drew of Bucky, way back in Kerama. Steve brushes the curve of Bucky’s cheek on the page. The soft pencil smudges, turning Bucky’s face a blurry gray.

He doesn’t feel like drawing anymore. He stares at the picture for a long time, and then puts it back.

\------

Sometimes, Bucky looks at Steve like he’s the only one in the world. Steve has to look away, then, because he has no idea what to say.

\------

Steve wakes up gasping. It’s still dark out. His shirt’s soaked in sweat. He throws off his blanket and sits with his feet on the floor, his head in his hands.

And then Bucky makes a soft sound from across the room and stands up.

“I don’t care,” he says. He sits down next to Steve and takes him into his arms. Steve trembles. Bucky’s so very warm. “I don’t care,” he says again. “You’re it, for me. I don’t want anyone else.”

“I’ve ruined you,” Steve says wretchedly. “You need -- you deserve better than this, Buck.”

“Shut up,” Bucky says, taking up Steve’s hands. He kisses them, very carefully, like they’re something important. “Tell me it’s okay,” he says. “Tell me I’m good enough for you, Rogers. Or,” and his voice trembles, “or tell me to go, and I’ll go.”

Maybe they’re both broken. But they -- fit. They fit together.

“Stay,” Steve says, and kisses Bucky. He kisses him and kisses him. “Stay, please.”

“God,” Bucky says, and laughs. “We’re both idiots, aren’t we.”

Steve feels warmer than he’s felt in months. “We are,” he agrees, and presses Bucky down into the bed. “I should have seen -- I should have known --”

“No shoulds,” Bucky tells him, pressing a finger to Steve’s mouth. “Don’t think about the past, Rogers.”

“Don’t think,” Steve whispers back. “Celebrate.” He presses his mouth to the curve of Bucky’s neck, licking at the soft skin there. Slides lower, to nip at Bucky’s collarbone.

Bucky’s cock is hard against Steve’s thigh. He pats at it through Bucky’s pants. “What’s this,” he says. “Should I touch it?”

“You’re a tease, Rogers.” Bucky’s voice is rough. “C’mon, Steve. Touch me.”

Steve smiles. “I’ll do you one better,” he says, and slides down the length of Bucky’s body. He frees Bucky’s cock and licks at the head, and then takes it into his mouth.

Bucky makes a strangled sound when Steve swallows him down. His hands come down to tangle in Steve’s hair. Steve lets him, laughing around Bucky’s cock.

It doesn’t take Bucky long to come. Steve swallows, wipes his mouth and climbs back up to kiss Bucky again.

“Rogers,” Bucky groans, his head falling back onto the pillow. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Not yet you’re not,” Steve says, wrapping his arms around Bucky and tugging him closer. “I have plans for you, pal.”

**Author's Note:**

> Jesus, that was a project. Thank you so much to all of you who read along with me and left comments; they kept me going.
> 
> All research was done via wikipedia or HBO's _The Pacific_ , basically. Apologies for historical inaccuracies.
> 
> If you'd like to yell at me about the tragedy that is Steve & Bucky, I'm on [tumblr](http://radialarch.tumblr.com)!


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